To Challenge Mischief
by BuckyKing
Summary: He was winter and she was spring and where they collided—gods, help the realms—it was a burst of fall. It was pumpkin spice on their tongues and a warm blanket inching up their thighs from their tippy toes. It was scorching, new leaves and crumpled old ones returning to the orange & yellows of calm. It was a chilly breeze cooling cheeks as the sun cascaded a waterfall of light.
1. mischief

_**to challenge mischief**_  
 **"she's a fool, but she is mine."**

"they had thought her hands clean before he rained himself upon her, sending his whispers like a siren's song into her heart. they did not know of the blood of strangers that had warmed her skin."

She was taught that her blood was descended from killers and peace-less people. She knew that her race was different from her parents, though. She had always known she was different. He, however, was never told the true lineage of the blood pumping his jealous heart. Born on ice and taken to spring where those who raised him sought to force hatred for the cold of which he was from.

Due to a prophetic vision long ago, the two meet. She has been tortured by those who would see her blood wiped off the Earth. He offers solace. Now, she must return the care.

 _ **to challenge mischief  
**_ **"he's my king and much more."**

sofia boutella as _nadira paulman_ **[mouse]  
** tom hiddleston as _loki odinson_ **[thurisaz]  
** marvel's asgardians as _themselves_ **[gods]  
** avengers cast as _avengers_ **[superheroes]**

 _ **to challenge mischief  
**_ **"please, stop this."**

high hopes ✑ kodaline  
castle ✑ halsey  
somewhere only we know ✑ keane  
gods & monsters ✑ lana del ray  
everybody wants to rule the world ✑ lorde  
lost ✑ kodaline  
mama ✑ my chemical romance  
the judge ✑ twenty øne piløts  
gasoline ✑ halsey  
just one yesterday ✑ fall out boy  
war ✑ kodaline  
once upon a dream ✑ lana del ray  
oh ms believer ✑ twenty øne piløts  
castle ✑ halsey

❝i think you will  
set yourself afire  
before you realize  
that even you  
cannot conquer the sun❞  
— e.h.

❝anyone could see it, clear as day.  
they weren't quite friends anymore;  
they'd grown into something even greater.❞  
— c

 _ **to challenge mischief  
**_ **"** **i see you."**

 _disclaimer: i own nothing but nadira and the slight au plot_


	2. e i n

╭ ╮  
chapter one:  
 _her name  
_ ╰ ╯

Her hands fidgeted before her. She knew she had to stop, her father would berate her if she continued such "ludicrous nuisances." Today she had to be the confident, poised daughter of Senator Robert Paulman. Yesterday she was the single and prestigious, polite future-housewife who was visiting from Harvard and being brought around to other political leader's sons so they could perhaps marry her.

The car that her father had brought for her slowed to a stop, the driver exiting to signal their arrival. She took a deep breath and ceased anything that would make her appear any different.

The door opened to reveal a grand staircase up to the front of the White House. Being so casually invited to the home of America's president had always startled her since she was a child. She took the driver's hand and stepped out to see the sea of mostly white men and women pouring into the building for the Christmas party.

Her car pulling away jerked her back into motion, and she began her ascent. Inside the White House was dotted with antiques and modern decor. Touches of old presidents still lingered along the walls; It was astonishing.

She found her way into the grand room where dinner, dancing, and sly mingling would occur. Her father and mother were near the middle of the growing crowd, conversing with an older gentleman whom she knew to be, Congressman Lakely. His eyes blatantly flittered over her breasts, portraying. She even caught his grimace as he glanced between her and her parents. His radical hatred for people from the Middle East wasn't unknown to the public. She had been the core of many of his jokes due to her lineage—her parents had adopted her and though they claimed to love her, she found it especially hard to believe when they laughed at her expense.

"Ah, Nadira," her mother cooed, kissing her cheeks. She pulled away and began her usual evaluation of what her daughter was wearing. Nadira had picked a sleek, floor-length white dress in an effort to please her mother. She enjoyed when the young woman displayed her femininity and believed that white made her seem angelic.

Her father clasped her shoulder and cast her a quick nod of approval. "My daughter, as you know, Congressman."

Lakely sighed and nodded, as well. "Yes, yes, I had thought she wouldn't be joining us. Too busy with school, though I don't understand why she's there, Rob. With her looks, you could marry her off to a rich man like Bill Gates."

"He's married," her mother laughed.

The Congressman waved off her comment. "Well, Tony Stark isn't."

Her father appeared rather intrigued by that suggestion and left her to further discuss how to go about meeting Mr. Stark. Nadira wandered off, not especially invested in the ensuing conversation. The weapons-maker was of little interest to her; there was too much calamity to deal with where he stood.

Her gaze sharpened on a man at the bar. "Speak of the Devil," she muttered, strutting over to Stark, wanting to meet the man her father was going to attempt to marry her off to. She had seen enough recordings and interviews to have a baseline for his personality: cocky, a boy whose father never paid attention to him so he craves attention from those around him. She was very good at adjusting her personality to suit those she spoke to in an effort to win their favor—the habit had been instilled by her mother, a people-pleaser since birth.

She tapped her fingers on the bar, garnering his attention. "Let me guess...whisky?"

He smirked. "Only if you're buying."

Nadira held up two fingers to the bartender and muttered, "charge it to Senator Paulman."

Stark quirked a brow. "Husband?"

"Father."

"Daddy piss you off?" He teased after catching the name expensive of the expensive bottle and took the drink from the bartender.

"Daddy has never been emotionally invested in me." She sipped her drink, the sharp tang of expensive whisky warming her stomach.

"Ah, look at us. A couple of traumatized kids with daddy issues."

Nadira tipped her glass and clicked it to his. "I'll drink to that."

The lights dimmed signaling the start of the presentation. Stark set his glass down and held out his arm for her. "I didn't catch your name."

"My name?" She poured the rest of his drink into her glass and walked away, smugly. "Unimportant," she called over her shoulder.

She found her parents at their table—Congressman Lakely was still vividly speaking with her father. The man who she was to sit next to, stood and pulled at her seat for her to sit. She muttered a quick thank you and gently touched his arm as she sat.

The presenter got up in the front of the room with a microphone and began rambling thanks to everyone for arriving and donating to different foundations. Then he went into a spiel about how the President was going to "change America."

She tuned him out until a screen dropped behind him and he introduced a foundation dedicated to helping wounded soldiers in Iraq. The screen rolled with an old footage reel intro of the slow "5,4,3,2...1."

She watched the presenter scurry to the side of the room where the computer playing the video was set up. She could see the tense stature of the tech people, see the scrambling as they tried to stop the video. Meanwhile, the entire room zoned in on the film of an infamous Iraqi combatant known for assembling most of the weaponry used to wound soldiers; they called him Khaliq Almawt or the Creator of Death. It showed him torturing soldiers and building his weapons used in genocides. Then the images slowed to show him holding a little baby. She was confused by the sudden show of humanity.

"Shut it down!" The presenter screamed.

She noticed her parents tensing and her father running over with many other politicians and Military personnel. The screen showed the picture of the baby's face on an adoption form, the camera zooming in over the name.

 _Her_ name.

She pushed away from the table, abruptly at the implication that she was the daughter of a volatile murderer, known for his ledger soaked in the blood of more soldiers killed than anyone else.

Horrified looks were cast upon her in troves. Men and women screaming "murderer" at her. Haphazardly throwing slurs at her. People she'd known since she was a child looked at her with disgust and fear.

A stout, elderly woman latched onto her arm. Tears trembled down their cheeks. "Your blood killed my son!" She screeched.

Nadira wrenched her arm from the elder and stumbled back, near tripping in her heels. "N—No," she stuttered, "it's a lie!"

"Arrest her!" Another voice in the chaos cried.

"Patriot Act!"

"Terrorist!"

"Murderer!"

Her heart stuttered, beating loud enough to render her near mute to any sound other than then rush of blood to her brain. People began throwing their glasses of alcohol at her followed by hor d'oeuvres.

A large ensemble of bodyguards in suits came rumbling through the growing crowd and guided her out of the White House. Her mind was bogged with increasingly dangerous thoughts of her true parentage. She hadn't realized she was sobbing and fumbling until she was shoved into the passenger side of the car she rode to the party in. Reporters and people from inside were banging on the car, shouting at her vulgarly.

The fear inside her welled up and blurred her eyes. She climbed over to the driver's seat, seeing the keys the ignition and turned on the engine. Her only thought was that she had to run. People who sought vengeance for their loved ones or themselves would come for her and she did not want to make their hunt easy.

With her hand firmly pressed on the horn, she drove slowly as people parted from her path until she was able to speed off into the chaotic streets of DC.

She never looked back.

* * *

Twenty miles outside of D.C. she had emptied most of her cash and tank. Her feet stung, blistered from the ground as she walked hurriedly along the gravel road. She berated herself for ignoring the gas light until she happened upon on an old gas station which had the rare public telephone. The soreness crawling through her veins and the weight on her shoulders elevated enough for her to bolt to the phone. Her hands scrambled to fish out spare change from her wallet. She still shook from her tears, causing her to flail as she tried to shove the coins into their respective slots. Once she was able to get them in and ring up her parents, she sighed. After their lies about her parentage, after the way they treated her as more of a pawn than a child, she still crawled back to them for help.

After the third ring, the line clicked. "Hello?"

Her voice trembled like an earthquake, caused by sorrow. "Mother?"

"Rob! Rob, it's her!" She screamed over the phone. Her tone grew irritated as she snapped at her daughter. "The way you left last night was dreadful for P.R.. I have had to explain your decorum far too much to our friends. You couldn't have just sat and taken it, could you?"

Her heart sunk into her belly. A chill racked her body as she panicked. Her mother was the one who had lied to her about her origins, yet her "mother" was the one blaming her. She found it sick, traumatizing. "Don't you care? People think I'm a monster," she whispered, not wanting to believe her own words.

"Well," her mother chuckled, sickly, "you are, dear. Rob and other people in the government were going to use you to ignite further war when the time was right. You owe us a debt, child. We raised you and now you will come home and help us profit from this early revelation."

She pulled the phone away from her ear, not hearing or feeling everything. She chose to embrace the numbness as she dropped the phone and walked away. Her face burned as more tears threatened to fall, but they couldn't; she had cried too much that night and there were no more tears to shed. People wanted her dead. Her parents never truly loved her. She truly was a simple pawn to everyone around her. It wasn't the lie of her parentage that hurt the most, it was the bitter tone her mother lashed out in, in her most desperate time. The words the woman who raised her spit burned her skin, leaving scars deep inside that would forever rear their ugly face at any reminder of who she truly was.

An old, beaten Ford revved down the road, skidding to a stop next to her. The driver door swung open to reveal a cherry-faced man. "Hey, yer the girl from the news!"

Her entire being tensed as she listened to the man call after her. "N—no, I'm not."

"Sure, you are! Let me give you a lift."

She eyed the Confederate sticker on the grill of his truck and the giant American flag waving in the back of his truck. She had learned much from politicians, like how to tell when someone was manipulating you. The man's hand rested on his and Nadira caught the outline of a gun in his waistband. She knew that one way or another the man was getting her in his truck. She wasn't stupid to guess that she could run from a vehicle, nor outrun a bullet. With great reluctance, she stepped into the passenger side and strapped on her seat belt.

Sweat trickled down her face as adrenaline broke through every pump of her heart. She felt winded even though she hadn't walked far, nor ran. "Where are we going?" She asked, reluctantly, never looking at him.

"Somewhere ain't nobody gonna find you."

Before she could retaliate she saw the butt of a gun coming down on her temple. With the burst of pain rooting itself in her head, like a tree to the ground, she crumpled.

* * *

Her head ached as her eyes rolled around behind her eyelids. She recollected what had happened, slowly. Everything throbbed and she knew that she at least had a concussion, if not a full-on fractured skull. The little light pouring in from dusted and dirtied windows burned her eyes and she tried to pry them open. Her shoulders were sore, a far more bearable ache radiating. It caused her to attempt stretching her arms, only to find them tied behind her. Her feet were tied together, as well.

Her head lolled to the side as she tried taking in her surroundings. She berated herself for believing that she would be safe outside of D.C.. Many people were affected by her birth father, one of the most hated men in the world. Killing the daughter he obviously loved, was an easy way to exact gruesome revenge.

The door opened, revealing the man who'd taken her. Three more men of similar looks followed in his wake. He crouched down in front of her and gripped her chin, purposely attempting to bruise her. "We're gonna do everything your daddy and his monsters did to our boys overseas" he sneered.

She wailed as he grabbed her middle finger and wrenched it back, the nail almost touching the back of her hand.

"Let's begin, Nadira Paulman or is it Nadira _of Khaliq Almawt?_ "


	3. t v e i r

╭ ╮  
chapter two:  
 _a maiden & battle_ _  
_╰ ╯

* * *

Queen Frigga awoke one night in a fit of shivers and slick brows. Visions were not an uncommon occurrence for one of the Vanir yet a vision so vivid, so complex as the one she had just endured was not to be regarded in the same as any other vision. In the morn, she would walk the bridge to the Bifrost Observatory to have words with Heimdall. The gatekeeper would express a growing uneasiness in his perception of all, together they would watch for someone to arrive. One destined to challenge the Norns, fate themselves.

It would be many a year before the time the vision foretold of, yet it would not be forgotten by the Queen and the Gatekeeper.

* * *

The Princes of Asgard trekked but a step behind their father to the entrance of the palace where a group awaited them.

"Father," Thor began, concern wrapping his call, "what is going on?"

The All-Father took his steed's reins from Lady Sif's grasp and mounted. "Heimdall wishes to have words with us."

The brothers shared looks of concern and confusion before following suit of their father. The warriors three and Lady Sif followed with tense apprehension all but scorching them as it bubbled over.

The ride to the observatory was short, thankfully. Each member of the group entered and surrounded the parapet, where atop it stood the Gatekeeper.

His gaze never wavered from the skies as he spoke. "I see a lady of paramount importance."

"What of her?" Odin questioned, his face refusing to bequeath those at his sides the thoughts that lie beneath.

Heimdall bowed his head. "My King, I believe her to be the subject of a premonition the Queen bore from a near century ago. Her health, of mortal value, is threatened by some who would see her dead. I hope you will allow her refuge in Asgard until her purpose is known."

Odin turned to the group he had amassed on his short journey. "You will go to Midgard and retrieve the girl. If she is not well, take her to the Healing room and inform me immediately." Nodding to his sons, he said, "I would speak to your mother to know more about the origin of this concern. Let not a soul apart from this gathering know that a human will walk amongst us."

His sons gave firm, dutiful nods, their hair bouncing in sync. Thor enacted as leader once his father departed. His persona was joyous as he swung Mjolnir, lazily. "A mission to rescue a maiden and battle, I think this should be followed by a feast!"

The warriors three raised their respective weapons in agreement. Holstagg exclaimed, "let us be on our way to revel in boar and ale!"

Loki slunk back behind the others, still watching his father as he rode off. "Does this not strike you as odd?" His low voice carried around the others, catching their attention. "Verily, there is something amiss. Father would never allow a Midgardian to reside here."

"Loki is right," Lady Sif murmured. "However, I do not think this is the moment to ponder it. We should be on our way to rescue the woman. Though, I think only Loki and Thor need go."

"I will go too," Fandral announced with a dashing smirk worthy of his title. "To ensure the maiden does not fear them; they're quite ugly," he jested.

"Yes!" Thor bellowed, pointing his hammer to the Gatekeeper, "Heimdall, the Bifrost!"

"Of course, my Prince." Heimdall gave a small grin followed by him plunging his sword into the Bifrost keyhole. "I will send you near the site where I perceive the girl; she should be easy to find."

The portal opened before them, a glaring array of white and all the colors of the rainbow. Thor led the group toward the entrance, the light swallowing them into the cosmos, propelling the warriors onto Midgard—Earth, as its inhabitants called it.

Through the minuscule seconds, Loki further entwined his thoughts with concern. He was adamant that his father—though the king respected Heimdall's words—would never agree to such endeavors with little more than a cursory glance.

Within a breath, Loki and the others planted their feet on a rock-laden path. The warm scent of flowers and the sweetness of wet petals kicked up from their landing, swarming the aliens like bees. Rolling grasses and flowers flowed around them in a vast sea of green. Around the borders of the field lay towering trees akin to those on Asgard.

"I should bring some of these flowers back for the ladies I'm courting," Fandral commented, offhanded, dragging his fingertips over the bursting yellow of what Loki knew to be a sunflower.

Thor let loose a laugh. "That would require many trips to retrieve enough flowers, my friend!"

Loki rolled his eyes, beginning his approach to the rim of the forest. The others soon followed in his wake after sparing a glance to the burning rune left by the Bifrost.

Thor came up next to his brother, "Loki, do you—"

The group halted for a moment as a piercing scream tore through the peace. Birds took flight, heading the agony as it washed over the woodland, knocking back any in its path.

The group bolted toward the sound, their feet barely touching the ground. The trees gave way to the Asgardians until a small wooden hut came into view. It was disheveled, rotting wood falling away from its borders. It almost seemed to rattle from the continued calls of pain it contained.

Thor slowed at the fore of the group, the others following in his steps as they took in their surroundings with caution. He gave an enormous grin, one probably not suited for the predicament they were in, and shouted in what was a whisper to him, "to the maiden."

The group parted, not having to speak to know where they would go. Fandral stood back, in front of the cabin to ensure any who slipped through did not get far. Thor and Loki approached the door, weapons raised. Once Thor released a breath, he slammed against the door, sending it flying into the house with little effort. Loki threw two daggers at one of the men inside who had raised a small machine at them. He spun to release two more upon the others that were leaning against the opposite wall.

Thor approached the center where a gruesome sight lay. Tied to a rickety chair sat a young woman soaked in blood of her own, towered by a far older man who was using a knife to pry her right eye from its socket. Without any thought, Thor hit the man in the face with his hammer and released the girl from the rope that bound her. Her right eye fluttered at the movement and beheld Thor for but a moment before her entire being sagged.

The other two of the group had piled in near Thor to observe the maiden they were sent to retrieve. Her thick, raven hair was matted with blood and knotted with leaves. Her bark-tinted skin, holding bursting constellation of freckles that now was marred by cuts so deep one could see bone. The mangled remains of her left eye were enough to make any who had not been groomed for war retch.

Loki placed two fingers below the side of her chin, on her neck. "She lives, but not for long. We must return home."

They stepped outside, guiding their eyes to the sky, Thor spoke one name. "Heimdall."

The Gatekeeper opened the Bifrost pathway, light scooping up the three Asgardians and single mortal. Heimdall removed his sword and greeted them. "There is a caravan with healers awaiting her."

Thor took her to the large, horse-drawn cart, laying her down as if she was a glass vase that could break should the wind brush her skin. It was a stark contrast to the booming warrior's brute personality and force. The moment they saw the young maiden off, they mounted their own horses and rode off past the caravan to the King.

More than one turned back to glance at the caravan when pained screams seemed to rain from the skies and soak the warriors with pity to their bones.

* * *

In the throne room, the warriors and princes bowed to Odin, respectfully. Thor, as always, saw fit to deliver a report of what had transpired on their quest. While Loki seemed to slink to the back, as always, not a soul paying attention to the moon when the sun rose. He waited for his brother to finish, irked by the fact that once more praise was thrust upon the first-born solely.

"Father," Loki spoke subtly once the others had finished conversing, "I think now would be the time for you to explain the scheme you are playing."

Odin looked at his son with a frown. "Frigga was delivered a vision by the Norns. They showed her their challenger, a woman they claimed to not be bound by the laws of fate. Reckless as it may sound, this woman is prophesied to save us from what your mother described as the end."

"Ragnarok?" Thor broke in.

Odom's eyes lightened as he answered his prized son. "Possibly."

Loki prickled at the noticeable shift in his father. "I will speak to mother."

Odin nodded and dismissed the group with a wave of his hand. "I would have you all keep an eye on our Midgardian guest."

Loki tensed and sighed as he strutted away. It was another unwanted burden his father, oh, so gracefully thrust upon their shoulders.

He sought out his mother in the healing room, knowing the Queen would want to assist with the maiden she'd seen in her dreams. Loki's unwavering frown broke at the sight of his mother, her tentative hands cleaning the wound of the woman's eye. Frigga looked up from her handiwork once she was pleased with it and murmured some words to the others attending the sleeping girl. Her eyes wandered to the corner that Loki had cloaked himself in and she strode over to hold his cheek.

He dropped the invisible barrier and placed his hand over hers. "Mother."

"Loki, did your father speak to you?" The depth of her loving eyes consumed his wayward soul, making him feel like a young child.

"Yes, though his attention was on Thor for most of the speaking. He's very proud of his son bringing in the mortal." Loki pulled his mother's hand away and rolled his eyes. "I believe that if I had not gone, father would not have noticed," he quipped.

Frigga hummed and cast her motherly gaze back to the woman they spoke of. "You helped. You have my thanks. I would have worried endlessly if she had not been brought back. The Norns showed me she was vital to our future; she will change the tides, Loki."

He grew bitter towards the girl as she slept. "How has she garnered your and father's favor already? Father can barely stand to look at me and yet—"

Frigga quirked a brow at her boy, effectively silencing him. "Your father loves you, Loki. And if you do not believe that or do not find it enough then know that I love you more than anything. You are my son."

Loki squeezed her hand and released it. "I love you, too."

A healer approached quietly, requiring Frigga, but not wanting to disturb the mother and son. "My Queen, it seems that the lady of Midgard has suffered more internal injuries than we previously found."

"Go fetch some heartblood and—well, I'm sure you know," Frigga smiled at the young girl and she returned it, scurrying off. The Queen turned back to Loki and patted his chest, smoothing the wrinkled leather. "Watch over her, please, Loki. I wish to see the will of the Norns through."

Loki's resolve to loathe the girl lessened at his mother's wish. "I will do as you say."

Frigga reached up and kissed his cheek. "Good. Now, go along and try not to rile your brother."

Loki feigned an innocent grin. "You know I'm always the best behaved, mother."


	4. þ r í r

chapter three:

 _the girl awoke_

* * *

Loki sat by the bed of the woman his mother was tending. It had been a full fortnight since Thor, Fandral, and himself brought her in. Due to his mother's personal healing hands and the gifts of Asgard, she was progressing quickly. The cuts that littered her, drenching her dark skin in blood were no more than a memory. Her scars stood out plainly but had gone down from their previous swollen state. Her head still wore a white dressing cloth across her missing right eye. A jagged scar went from her scalp, down through her eye to the middle of her cheek. It made him smirk at the humor of having two in the castle with missing right eyes.

"Loki," his mother soothed, running her hand over his cheek after she finished examining the girl.

Loki closed the tome he had dived into, soaking in his mother's attention. He loathed how the girl consumed so much of her time recently. "Yes?"

She nodded to the woman, drawing Loki's attention. "She wakes."

He observed the sleeping figure. Her breathing was no longer labored, nor deep like she was trapped in eternal slumber. Loki rose from his seat and stepped away from the bed. He watched his mother tentatively rearrange pillows beneath the woman to ensure she was propped up when she awoke.

She moved before her eyes opened, shifting in bed. He smirked at the way her small nose twitched like a mouse's. When her shifting became violent shaking, his mother rushed to move away anything she'd knock over to hurt herself.

"What can I do?" Loki questioned, seeing the concern in his mother's eyes.

She shook her head. "She is just having a fit. Give her a moment to wake up."

Loki and his mother waited for the minute to tick by. Soon the sleeping woman's quaking ceased and her good eye began fluttering open. Frigga quickly grabbed a vial of amber liquid and tilted it to the woman's lips before she became fully conscious.

The girl recorded as her eyes focused on her surroundings. She scrambled haphazardly out of the bed, tumbling onto the ground. Loki stepped back to allow his mother to soothe her.

The Queen knelt in front of the girl and offered her hand. "I am Frigga. What is your name, dear?"

The girl opened her mouth to speak then seemed to think better of it, simply staring with a wide-eye at Frigga. It took a moment for her hand to finally slip into his mother's and they stood up. The girl seemed to rely heavily on the support of Frigga, having not used her legs for weeks. Frigga eases her back into the bed and drew the sheets back up to the girl's waist. The startled mouse seemed even more shocked by the simple white healing gown she wore. Her fingers pinched the fabric on her sides and she frowned, brows furrowing as she tilted her head.

His mother carefully sat on the bed and took the girl's hands in hers. "I know you are afraid, but do not fret, child. I am the Queen of Asgard, this realm. My sons were sent to rescue you." She looked back at Loki and the girl's eye followed curiously. "This is my second-born, Loki."

Loki smirked and reached to take one of the girl's hands only to have her flinch. He tried giving her a smile instead, eyes softening, and slowly took her hand in his. His lips politely kissed the back of her hand, the scars tingling from his touch. "Pleasure to meet you."

The girl's cheeks flamed and her left eye widened. She pulled away from both of them, still not granting a smile. Her eyes caught the scars on her hands and she held out her arms, tediously examining the long, pale scars the crookedly dragged up her skin. Her eye welled as she rested her hands on her lap, one hand slowly came up to feel the wrap around her missing eye.

Frigga got up and grabbed a small mirror off one of the tables nearby. She handed it to the girl and frowned as she watched the girl freeze. The mouse began trying to remove it until Frigga carefully removed her hand and undressed the cloth for her. A barren hole remained where an eye had once rested. Loki noticed the bright, sparkling green her left eye shone, the same shame as the green on his clothing.

"Loki," his mother whispered, "go tell the servants to prepare her a room by your and Thor's chambers." She turned her gaze back to the frightened mouse. "I would have you two help her, personally."

Loki bowed to his mother and cast one more observatory look to the girl. She was pretty, he mused. Her raven hair framed her face in thick, curly locks much like his when he did not grease it back. There were permanent bags under eyes, though they'd been more telling when she'd first arrived. Her hands were soft yet there was a large nodule on the middle finger of her left hand, the tell of an advent writer.

Loki left the healing room to inform one of the Einherjar posted to pass on the information his mother had given him. He peeked back through the door to watch his mother coax the mouse to eat. He sighed at her fear-wracked body and turned away, knowing his mother was fully capable of getting her to relax.

"Brother!" Thor boomed, strutting down the gold-embezzled hall with the walk of a large, stupid dog.

Loki rolled his eyes and braced himself for the rough pat on his back that Thor delivered. "Yes?" He sighed.

"I have heard the puny girl is awake." Thor began to head through the door but Loki shot out his arm to halt the God of Thunder.

He noticed how the mouse was more at ease without him in the room. He wasn't surprised, she was tortured viciously by males. The last thing she needed was the giant and touchy Thor to bombard her. "Brother, I think it would be wise to allow her to process what has happened before you go in there," Loki suggested.

His brother seemed to merrily take it in stride. "Very well, then we shall go inform the Warriors Three and Sif."

Before Loki could protest, Thor had his tree trunk of an arm around his shoulders and was dragging Loki along with him.

* * *

The next day the girl awoke with screams, scratching at her arms and shredding the blankets. Soft hands grabbed her shoulders and her eye violently opened wide. Nadira stopped screaming at the sight of the woman who had been there the day before when she'd awakened from her fortnight slumber—Frigga was her name. She covered her face, the painful reminder of what she'd lost under her palm.

"Dear," Frigga whispered, gently pulling her hands down. Her smile was warm and loving, truly unlike any other, Nadira had seen. The people she was raised around had only sneers and lies on their lips. The Queen released her and fetched her some water laced with herbs to calm any pains she suffered from. Frigga then slowly helped her eat some light broth, hoping the simple meal would help her stomach begin getting used to normal foods.

After some time Frigga cleaned up around Nadira. She watched the older woman move with grace and held a sort of enthrallment. Frigga gently held Nadira's hands. "I have other things to attend to. You should sleep some more."

Nadira gave no hint of retaining her words, simply staring up at the Queen with blank eyes. Frigga nodded once and cupped her cheek as she usually did with her own children when they needed her support. She watched Frigga leave the healing room as a few others who were condemned to the exorbitant place began awaking. Others who worked as healers poured in wearing drab cloths meant to be dirtied over their neat blue dresses.

She sighed and turned over, done observing the changes that the morning brought. Nadira's mind swirled behind closed eyes, attempting to piece together the ongoings of the past days. It was a harrowing endeavor due to her lack of knowledge on where she was. At first, she thought it a dream-an escape her mind concocted after being shoved into the cabin from Hell. Nadira dismissed though. The throbbing and soreness of the eye she was missing felt too real to be anything but truth.

Nadira groaned and shot up in her bed violently, startling a few of the other visitors and workers in the room. She vigorously massaged her temples to soothe her aching mind. Frigga had told her she was Queen of Asgard and the way she spoke. . . it was as if she'd been thrown into the past. Though, Nadira had to refute that thought as she was reminded of the odd occurrence of something she could only describe as magic. Her rapt attention went to the healer weaving a bit of mist that seemed to flow from the lady's fingertips. Magic was certainly not something from her world which left a queasy feeling in her stomach as she flirted with an improbable idea, but one that grew with every weave of the woman's hands. Another universe?

"Pardon me, but is this yours?"

Nadira looked up at one of the healers who was pointing at a book on the stand by her bed. It was thick and worn along the spine though the leather-bound tome appeared new, the sign of a constant reader. She almost shook her head but stopped as she remembered seeing it in the hands of Frigga's son. It took her a beat to come up with his name-Loki. Nadira quickly nodded and scooped up the book, ignoring the woman. Her mind buzzed as she glanced through the pages and saw they offered little information that made sense. She picked up the writing materials left there and began annotating the pages. It was in her language but the way it was written was nearly pure math . . . or was it science? Many of the words she knew but it read like a new language had weaved its way into the meaning.

As the hours ticked by she delved further into the book Loki had left behind. Nadira's confusion jarred to a halt as she saw the word "Earth." It was scrawled in elegant cursive, much like the rest of the book, under a boldened title that read "Midgard." Under the writing was a black and white sketch of her planet. She tore through to the next page and was brought face to face with a picture of different worlds. Earth, or Midgard as the book called it, was in the center surrounded by eight other circles. She saw one hastily labeled as Asgard and remembered Frigga having said the name of the place she was in shared the same name as the picture she examined. Nadira's breath caught as she realized she was on a different planet. She almost retaliated publicly but was reminded she was not alone when the clatter of trays echoed.

Nadira glanced up from the book she had curled herself around and saw Frigga approaching. She wiped off the ink that had smudged itself along her hand onto the side of the light dress she wore.

Frigga's smile warmed over Nadira like a rising sun. "Good evening, dear. I have prepared a more permanent space for you to rest. Would you like to try walking?"

Nadira nodded and set the book down with the writing utensils. Her body ached from having laid down for two weeks. The muscles in her legs throbbed and her bones made loud crackings sounds as the joints clicked from being used once more. Frigga proffered her arm to Nadira, making her tilt her head in curiosity. The woman before had never presented any malicious intent and Nadira quite found her amicable. She took the proffering with a kind gleam in her mischievous eyes.

Familiarity passed through Frigga's own gaze capturing Nadira's interest. The Queen patted her hand with a motherly chuckle. "You remind me of one of my sons. He schemes much like you are doing right now." As Nadira came to stand completely, Frigga took notice of the book she was reading and furrowed her brows, plucking it off the bed. "You have read this?"

Nadira paused to consider her answer. She was still processing how to best act around the Asgardians. It would take more time to develop the cover she would use to blend in, it would ensure her safety. Nadira settled for a simple nod and reached to pick up the book, her back sending an annoying pain through the base of her spine. She handed it to Frigga and watched the Queen's confusion grow as she flipped through the pages, occasionally slowing down to examine the notes that Nadira had made.

Frigga snapped the book shut and looked at Nadira with an air of something near pride. "These notes are quite detailed. I am impressed and I believe I know someone else who would be too" She tucked the book into Nadira's free hand "Please, finish it."


	5. f j ó n r i r

chapter four:  
 _little mouse_

Nadira carried on with as much grace as she could manage. The teachings of her mother were well embedded into her muscular memory. Though, Nadira couldn't help but ease her gaze on the woman who was helping her to her new room. Frigga walked with all the pride Nadira imagined a Queen should possess. She spoke with the confidence of a seasoned woman, one used to the dealings of less than adequate people. Nadria found herself miming the Queen's walk and gaze; she assumed that it would help make her more familiar to those who surrounded her.

Frigga smirked down at Nadira. It was a lift of the lips that reminded her of the Prince, Loki. Straightening herself, Frigga spoke steadily. "Be yourself, dear. This world is full of those who would like to see you fall, no different from your Midgard. I have learned it is best to be true about who you are."

Nadira nodded and trekked on with the Queen. Guards or Einherjar, as Frigga explained, stood as mountains in golden armor. Occasionally, few would march by them in the hall. Occasionally, some men and women would also pass by, their whispers not going missed as the Queen escorted her new ward. Nadira knew the small sparks of rumors would set the palace aflame soon. Her bedraggled appearance would go under heavy criticism, the origins of her missing eye and scars speculated, and the reason for her presence questioned. The last part bothered Nadira as well. It was a mystery as to why the Asgardians had rescued her; she saw no gain in them for it.

"Nadira," Frigga said and drew her focus, "this is the royal wing. I am putting you up near my sons so they can keep watch over you while the people learn of your presence and adjust." She grinned slyly. "We wouldn't want you to be bombarded by too many new people, would we?"

Nadira didn't return the smile. Instead, she opted for an affirming nod. Frigga opened a set of doors on the right side of the hallway, leading Nadira into what appeared to be a sitting room. Frigga let the girl hobble around, Nadira's fingers running along the stone walls and over the immaculate fireplace. She paused at the few scenic paintings hung around admiring their complexity that reminded her of the painter Claude Monet. Lounge chairs drew her in and she ran fingers over the top of one. She had noticed while looking around that her missing eye was proving to be a great difficulty. She was so accustomed to being able to see without hindrance that having to even pivot slightly to observe the bit of space that she usually could was an annoyance.

"My husband is missing his eye, too," Frigga stated. "You will adjust."

Nadira looked up at her and tilted her head. Her nose scrunched as she tried to imagine what the almighty King of Asgard would look like.

Frigga glided over to her took her hands in her own. "We will do what we can to help you, dear. I hope you come to trust us."

Nadira pulled her hands back to herself and wobbled a bit, having to grab onto the arm of the lounge chair nearest to her.

Frigga proffered her arm once more. "Come, there is more to see."

Nadira accepted her arm and hobbled next to Frigga as the Queen opened a single wooden door. The vast room presented to Nadira almost made her jaw drop. There was an enormous canopy bed to her right, that glistened in the sunlight pouring through an open balcony that was several feet in front of her. An intricately craved desk was to her left along with an equally intricate table and three matching chairs. On the wall to her left was another door that Nadira pointed to.

Frigga looked over and laughed as light as the sun warming them. "Oh, that is just your washroom, wardrobe, and also where you will be accessorized by a handmaiden." The Queen walked Nadira to her new bed and picked up a slick, wooden cane with gold covering the top. She let go of her arm and placed it in her hold. "For your limp. The aches should leave you in a few days."

Nadira ran her hands over the natural lumps in the can and tried taking a few steps, finding it far easier to walk with the extra support.

Frigga gently placed her hand on Nadira's shoulder. "Let us go have a midday meal."

Nadira nodded and followed the Queen back through the bedroom and sitting room. In the hallway, a sleek figure approached. His raven hair was slicked back showcasing defined cheekbones like knives and a slightly crooked nose. His outfit was composed of overlapping green and black leather. Nadira admired the way he cut through the air like a blade in the outfit made to seep darkness.

"Loki," Frigga smiled. "Would you care to join us for a meal?"

Nadira continued to scrutinize the son of Frigga as he slowed to a halt before them. His equally curious gaze ran over her as he replied with softness towards his mother. "No, thank you."

Frigga took it in stride. "Very well. Our guest and I will just enjoy the food without you," she teased.

Loki tore his bored stare from Nadira, causing her to smirk inwardly. "Yes, of course. I'm going to retire to my room."

Frigga cupped his cheek and nodded before walking off. Nadira waited for a beat before following. She found herself glancing back at Loki and saw him doing the same as he entered his room. It was odd the feeling she got him. He was something she understood very well, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Frigga did not catch the grin that escaped Nadira's restraint as she turned her gaze to Frigga's back. Nadira could almost sense that the wool he used to shield his mischief was beginning to fall off.

She could feel the wolf waiting to reveal himself.

* * *

Loki was pacing in his personal study. A new book nestled in his arms, being put to use to make a spell. His fingers waved in front of him, casting a golden-sparkled mist.

"Loki."

He stopped and shut the book to focus on his mother and the girl she'd just brought into the study. "Yes, mother?"

It had been a few days since Loki had watched her awaken and he'd only seen her when Frigga was attending her to the dining hall. The mouse had still not spoken a word and seemed to be relatively closed off to anyone but Frigga.

"I thought you could use some silent company." His mother smiled at the woman, her stout Midgardian stature forcing them to look down greatly to catch her gaze. "I caught her reading the book you'd left behind in the healing room. It seemed she had finished it and well," she motioned to the hundreds of books littering his recluse, "I assumed she would be able to borrow some of the knowledge you have."

He quirked a doubtful brow. "She finished it?"

His mother's mischievous smirk matched the one he wore so often. "She finished it. . . twice." Frigga held out the book to him.

He kept his surprise to himself—it had taken him a week to evaluate the work—and opened the book to find it littered with notations. The graphs etched onto some of the pages were chased by the mouse's handwriting; complex equations tried to decipher the maths that was beyond her kind's knowledge. He gazed at the girl and abruptly snapped the tome shut. "Do you understand this?" He asked her.

She startled a bit and tilted her head while giving a quick shrug.

He skimmed through the pages once more. The volume was on magic far beyond her estimated comprehension. Loki set the book down on his messy desk and searched the shelves. His fingers tapped along the spine of the one he wanted and he pulled it out, handing it to the girl. "The first one," he explained.

She ran her eye over the title embossed onto the cover and nodded a thank you to him. Her fingers ran all over the book as if she hoped to memorize its details.

Loki lazily gestured over to one of the lounge couches. "Go on and read it." He thought of the way she had scribbled the last book within an inch of its existence and cast a glance the writing utensils spread out across the place. "I can loan you some writing material for your annotations."

The mouse scurried to sit, her steps light as air even though she found walking to be a strenuous task. He noted the grace of a dancer in her stride, hips gently swaying and stepping toe first.

Frigga gently touched the arm of her son. The frown she wore as she watched the girl gave him concern. "Her mind has sustained much damage that I fear can only be healed by herself."

Loki nodded, watching the mouse skim through the book, her nose twitching every so often. "Is that why she does not speak?" He questioned, partly wanting to know what she would say if she could learn to speak once more. It was an odd thing meeting a Midgardian who could so easily weasel her way in Asgard. And the premonition his mother bore only fanned the flame of his interest.

Frigga sighed, tiredly. She had pondered much the same while tending to the girl, he assumed. "She is brilliant but I believe there is an error in how she expresses it. So, yes, she is still attempting to figure out how to function." Frigga removed her hand from his arm, her hands held in front her as she fiddled with her fingers. "I have to attend to some important matters, she will stay with you."

"Verily, there is someone who can entertain her," Loki ushered, not wanting to be left with the girl. His own hands were fiddling like his mother's.

His mother smiled and chuckled, exiting. "You will do just fine."

Loki groaned and went back to his desk. He sat in the chair and propped his legs up on the table while searching through the book he had delved into before his mother and the mouse had interrupted. Fingers began weaving a spell idly as his eyes skimmed over the text. Loki looked up to check on the girl after a few moments only to find her sitting on the floor before his desk, her good eye focused on the snake he had formed. Loki quirked an interested brow at her and sent the creature made of illusions onto the floor to slither itself near her and, hopefully, cause her to scram.

Instead of doing as most others did when seeing a venomous snake darting for them, she simply allowed it to slide up her body and rest around her neck. The glossy, black skin blending with her hair. Then she did something that they'd not seen since she arrived: she smiled. A full smile that blossomed like snowball trees after winter, bright and large.

Loki made the snake disappear back into mist and stood, walking to the girl. She followed him with her eye, her smile still vibrant. It nearly made him grin as he thought of ways to test her limits—to figure out what she feared. First, he needed to acquire the basics on her. "What is your name?" He asked, hoping she would continue progressing.

The girl visibly receded, her smile faltering. Then her eyes narrowed at his hands and she stood, reaching for the part of his body that garnered her attention. She didn't answer him and instead examined his fingertips to find if any marks were left from the magic—a concept she was coping with quickly, he observed.

Loki noted the way her nose twitched and pulled his hand from hers. He gripped her chin and tilted her head to scrutinize her expression. She was truly brilliant but there was so much mystery and delinquency covering it. "Very well, I will call you Mouse." His smirk grew as he released her. "Do not forget that I am a snake. If you waver, I will eat you alive, little mouse."


End file.
